


Go On

by mabonwitch



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Embarrassment, Explicit Consent, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Quote: We're On Our Own Side (Good Omens), Temptation, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wingfic, saying yes is sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabonwitch/pseuds/mabonwitch
Summary: After thousands of years of longing, Aziraphale decides it's safe to turn his sexuality on.Or:“Go on,” he said, biting down on the temptation that wanted to follow. (You know you want to. It'll feel so good, promise.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 286





	Go On

**Author's Note:**

> Um. I have not read the book. Or watched the mini-series. Everything I know about these boys comes from fandom. Oops, I accidentally a new fandom? Enjoy!

Crowley froze, going perfectly still. He even stopped breathing. His mind raced. Had he- He definitely hadn't meant to Tempt his angel. That is, of course he wanted to, he had always wanted to, but he had stopped himself. Had he slipped up?

Aziraphale pulled back. The softness of his lips retreated. Crowley clamped down on the whimper that wanted to emerge. 

“Was that,” his angel was blushing, pink dusting over his cheeks. “Was that alright?”

Crowley nodded, swallowed. He forced himself to breathe again. “Yes. Alright.” His normally nimble tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Why?”

He immediately wanted to bury his face in his hands. Why? Why? After millennium of longing, his angel finally decided to kiss him, and he asked why? What was wrong with him!

Aziraphale shuffled in place. His hands were still on Crowley's shoulders. Crowley could feel the way they tensed and relaxed. Rhythmic, like a cat. His angel was nervous. Crowley couldn't have that. He reached out a hand and let it rest casually on Aziraphale's waist. 

“I've loved you for- oh, a terribly long time, my dear,” Aziraphale began. Crowley nodded with a pang. It was the unspoken truth that had shaped most of their life together. His angel loved, but could never do more than hint at the depths of it. Crowley had known for a millennium at least. Hell kept him from doing anything that might endanger his angel. It was just there, the aching center of the universe he traveled around. “I thought,” Aziraphale continued softly, “what with, well, the Recent Happenings, that I might try, er.” His voice dropped even lower, coming out barely more than a whisper. “I turned my sexuality on.”

Crowley didn't get the urge to blink. He stared instead. And then, with a tingle working its way up his spine, he moved his hand up Aziraphale's chest. “Let me make sure I have this right,” he said, voice smoky. “After we survived the Apocalypse and made our own side, you decided to turn your sexuality on.” Crowley paused, hand coming to rest cupping Aziraphale's chin, thumb stroking his lips. “And then you kissed me. Have I got all that?”

Aziraphale smiled, looking so fucking happy it made Crowley want to implode. “Yes.”

“Angel,” Crowley growled.

“Yes?” And there was the smug bastard Crowley loved.

Crowley surged forward and pushed Aziraphale back against the door to his bookshop. This kiss was far more than a brush of lips. It was rough and wet and needy. Crowley had been denying himself a long time. He pulled back long enough to ask, “Do you want-”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said at once. “Um, maybe not all at once. But yes.”

Crolwey had been waiting more than five thousand years for this. He wasn't going to lose his chance now. He slowed down, told his raging libido to stuff it, and seduced. He slid his lips over Aziraphale's as tenderly as he could, a gentle invitation. A whisper, a promise of all the amazing things to come. He stroked over Aziraphale's cheek with his thumb in the same rhythm his lips moved. His other hand urged his angel forward until he could wrap his arm around him, hand coming to rest in the space between his angel's hidden wings. Aziraphale shivered and parted his lips.

Crowley deepened the kiss in stages. First, he tasted Aziraphale's lips, catching his delicious gasp. Then a bite, careful with his fangs, just a little teasing nip. He licked into Aziraphale's mouth. If this wasn't the first time Aziraphale kissed, it was something very close to it. Crowley gloried in it, in knowing his angel was his. He taught Aziraphale to dance, how to move their mouths together to produce the maximum amount of pleasure. 

Crowley paid every bit of attention he had to what got the best reactions. Time was syrupy thick as he made love to his angel's mouth. Aziraphale closed the distance between them, arms winding around Crowley's shoulders. The soft sounds he made were stoking the fire burning in Crowley. Sighs of pleasure and quiet moans rang in his ears.

It took an incredible act of will to draw away. Sharing breath, he whispered, “It's late. You should...rest.”

Aziraphale unwound his arms with visible reluctance. “Crowley... that...you...”

Crowley smirked. “Good?”

“Oh, my darling, so good.”

It wiped the smirk back off his face. Crowley looked from Aziraphale's swollen lips to his heavy eyes. “Good. I want to give you exactly what you want. However slow...or fast...that may be.” He could see the desire darkening Aziraphale's eyes, watched his lips part as though he were going to say something impulsive. “Goodnight, angel.” He backed up a step. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

When he got home, he had an embarrassingly fast wank, followed by a very slow one. 

It became a pattern. Crowley had already been wooing his angel for centuries, but now he really stepped up his game. He showed up in his best, with flowers or rare wines or Aziraphale's favorite treats. He took his angel to the theater, the opera, the Ritz, and once to the Oxford library, just to hear him fuss about inferior selections. After, they retired to Aziraphale's shop and kissed. Every night, a little more; lips wandering over jaws and shoulders, hands stroking under clothes and over the curve of an arse. Five nights ago, Aziraphale had moved their goodnights to his bedroom. Two nights ago, front pressed all along Aziraphale's back in a way that caused him to gasp and arch against Crowley, Crowley had whispered filthy suggestions into his angel's ear about ways he might satisfy himself once Crowley was gone. Last night, he had kissed his way down Aziraphale's chest and lingered long moments at the waistband before mouthing at the straining fabric. He'd backed off at the last moment, Aziraphale's tense wail of his name echoing in his ears. 

Tonight, Aziraphale couldn't concentrate. It was flattering. The way he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Crowley's mouth. Delighted, Crowley said, “You're not eating, angel. Something on your mind?”

Instead of blushing, Aziraphale gave him that intense look that always made Crowley want to combust. “Yes.”

Crowley sucked in a slow breath. “Bentley's out front. Give you a ride?”

Aziraphale's eyes dropped, raking slowly over Crowley's body before coming back to his face. He leaned in. “Yes. Please, my dear.”

Go- Sat- Fuck. “Right.”

It was lucky he'd made the drive from the Ritz to Aziraphale's bookshop so often, because damned if he remembered a thing about it. Aziraphale laced their fingers together. Crowley followed him like he was drunk, unable to think beyond that small touch. Aziraphale led him up to the bedroom. 

It didn't take much. Aziraphale turned in his arms and then they were kissing. Aziraphale tasted like the wine they'd been drinking, like every rich and decadent thing Crowley had ever put in his mouth. His tongue slipped over Aziraphale's mouth. Now there was an idea. Judging by last night, Aziraphale would certainly enjoy it.

It was almost a shock when Aziraphale moved away, but he didn't go far. His mouth trailed hotly over Crowley's jaw and up to his ear. Crowley took the chance to shrug out of his jacket, hands going to work on Aziraphale's waistcoat. Aziraphale made a pleased sound, hands coming up and running over Crowley's chest.

“Oh, I do adore how you dress. This fits you ever so well.”

Crowley couldn't think of a single thing to say to that. Aziraphale seemed content to explore. Crowley caught his mouth in another kiss, fingers working blindly to peel all the layers away. Aziraphale made happy little noises as he touched every inch of Crowley's chest and back. 

“Oh,” he sighed when Crowley finally got his shirt unbuttoned. 

“Angel,” Crowley rasped, his hand caressing the long, smooth line of it. He circled one soft, pink nipple, soaking in the gasp he elicited. Hands pushed his shirt up. Pleased by the assertiveness, Crowley broke his hold for long enough to pull the offending garment away. When Aziraphale threw himself back into Crowley's arms, there was nothing but bare skin from the waist up. Aziraphale wiggled against him.

“Oh, that's so lovely,” Aziraphale said, beaming up at him. Crowley smiled helplessly back. He'd wanted, for so long, and now it seemed like he might get what he wanted. His eyes darted over to the bed, tongue coming out to lick his lips. Aziraphale giggled. Crowley was not expecting the sharp pinch at his nipple, sending fire racing down his spine. He banished their socks and shoes in pure startlement. 

Aziraphale gasped. There was a flush on his cheeks when he suggested, shyer than he had ever sounded with Crowley, “Bed?”

That wouldn't do. He picked up one of his angel's hands and kissed each knuckle. Then he sucked, slowly, on his fingers, laving them one by one. He held Aziraphale's eyes the whole time, watched his pupils expand and his lips part. When he was done, Crowley laid a single kiss on Aziraphale's wrist before biting there lightly. “Bed,” he agreed.

They went in a tangle of limbs. Crowley arranged them on their sides, hands petting and coaxing. He wanted to draw every pleasure out of his angel, show him how good this could be. Aziraphale's hand stroked curiously over the curve of his arse, and Crowley bit his neck in reward. He let his own hands come to down to cup the luscious weight of Aziraphale's arse, squeezing gently. Aziraphale moaned. Crowley did it again.

“Do you like this, angel?” A bitten lip. A nod. He watched as Aziraphale slowly squirmed his way closer, cock a pleasant ache between his thighs. Oh, yess. His angel was aroused, alright. He hissed. Crowley lifted a thigh, tossed it over Aziraphale's hip, and there- oh. Contact. He could feel Aziraphale against him. A moment later, with a sound dangerously close to a sob, Aziraphale was pushing in, bringing their hips flush. Thrusting.

“Oh, oh, ah-” Crowley wasn't made of stone. Of course he moved with the motion of Aziraphale's hips. He also wasn't stupid. He heard the second Aziraphale's voice pitched from pleasure to panic. He drew back, just a fraction. He was right. Aziraphale was shivering, eyes wild.

“Shh, Zira, I'm here.” He nuzzled close, lips fluttering over his angel's face. “It's alright, I have you. What is it?”

It took Aziraphale a moment to gather himself. Crowley waited patiently. “It's just- it's so.” Aziraphale swallowed heavily. “Exposed.”

Crowley considered that. “It is, isn't it?” He had an idea, an inkling. “Alright, just a mo'. Close your eyes?” It was a silly request, but the black- well, it bothered Crowley. Aziraphale closed his eyes at once. “Trust me. Move with me, Zira.”

Aziraphale was pliant in his arms as Crowley rolled on top of him momentarily. With a fwoop, he manifested his wings. Tucking them carefully close, he rolled them again until Aziraphale was on top. Aziraphale gasped. 

“Bring your wings out,” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale did. They mantled a bit behind him, then settled down. Crowley brought his own wings up to cocoon them. “You can open your eyes again.” Aziraphale blinked at him, feathers brushing together. “Better?”

Aziraphale squirmed delightfully. “Oh. Yes. That's-” He sighed, melting down against Crowley, their wings a second embrace, protecting them from the world. “Much better. Except.” He glanced between their bodies. “Your, um, buttons are rather digging into my-” And there was the blush again. “Do you mind if I-?” He gestured between them.

Crowley, who was feeling dazed with how close Aziraphale was against him, murmured, “Oh, by all means.” He expected a miracle. What he got was fingers at his buttons, and then a hot hand sliding into his pants, cupping him. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “You, er, don't have any underwear.”

“Nnng,” Crowley said. No, he didn't. Demons as a rule did not wear underwear. Face beet red, Aziraphale curled a hand around him and stroked. Crowley thought he might discorporate. “Nrgk!”

Looking pleased with himself, Aziraphale pulled at Crowley's trousers with his free hand. “Hips.”

Hips. Yes. Crowley had...hips. That he could move to- how was he meant to concentrate with his angel's hand on his cock? He wriggled, but he wasn't really sure if it was helpful or not. He moaned in disappoitnment when his cock was freed. His jeans were peeled off him, and then he was naked. Feeling a flash of insecurity, Crowley posed deliberately. Aziraphale froze. Just...got stuck, staring, as if he hadn't the faintest idea what to do next. Crowley gave himself a mental smack and sat up. 

“C'mere, angel,” Crowley said. He kept his wings spread over them. Aziraphale scooted closer, between Crowley's parted thighs. His cock bobbed at the thought. Crowley reached, not for Aziraphale's trousers, but for his face, pulling him into a sweet kiss. Aziraphale met him, easy and hungry. Only when Aziraphale was thoroughly distracted, panting into his mouth, did Crowley let his hands meander down. He brushed the lowest portion of Aziraphale's belly with his knuckles. “Hmm?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, dazed. “Yes, please, I want-” And then he dove back into the kiss.

Crowley felt the solid weight of the Effort that Aziraphale had made some centuries ago for tailoring purposes alongside his fingers as he worked open the delicate buttons that were almost as old. He, naturally, was wearing undergarments. 

Crowley pushed down a mad impulse to lick them until they were sopping, and asked instead, “These too, sweetheart?” He could fucking smell how worked up Aziraphale was getting. He got teeth on his lips for that question.

“Yes.” The sharp note of need in that response made Crowley's hands want to shake as he pushed everything down Aziraphale's thighs. He got his legs under him and pulled Zira with him to kneel up, then eased them both back down.

“Here, stretch out again,” he invited. He pushed the clothes the rest of the way off, curling close over his angel. When Aziraphale pulled so Crowley was on top of him, he followed uncomplaining. “Like thisss?” He ground down, watching the hot-shock pleasure of it spread over Aziraphale's face. 

Aziraphale's hands scrambled over his back and dug into the down where wings met skin. Crowley's hips jolted. Aziraphale arched under him, and then they were moving again, together this time. He could feel the wet slide where he was leaking against Aziraphale, could feel Aziraphale's cock hard and throbbing against him. Crowley got an elbow down by Aziraphale's head, panting harshly in his ear. He wanted to stay close. His other hand skated over flesh and feathers, and grabbed for Aziraphale's arse. He groaned harshly. Aziraphale nearly came off the bed. 

“Go on,” he said, biting down on the temptation that wanted to follow. You know you want to. It'll feel so good, promise. He did something dirty with his hips. “Angel.”

With a wail, Aziraphale came. Crowley thrust against him, once, twice, and followed.

Boneless, Crowley let his full weight fall onto the angel. He nuzzled softly at his cheek. If Zira was going to panic again, now was the time, so Crowley kept close. He peppered gentle kisses over his face. A sweet smile curled Aziraphale's lips and Crowley let out a mental sigh of relief. When Aziraphale's eyes flickered open, shining with happiness, Crowley pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale said. “Dearest. My beloved.”


End file.
